These are nights in discolouring
by BookOfXcentric
Summary: Scott thinks he's getting a hand job but Stiles turns it into a BJ and Stiles gives amazing head. Post 3B, Healing, BJ, Blow Job, Magical Healing cock, Friendship, Pack dynamics. Crappy sum.


**A/N:** I give you all the crappy BJ fic a friend challanged me to write.I had a great idea... not sure it came out right :( because of my illness I had to wrap it up quickly. So it didn't turn out like I wanted. It was supposed to be a longer fic... Sorry.  
I guess it's true what people say: you're your own worst critic...

 **OXXXO**

 **Quote of the fic:  
** _"There is in the woods an unexpected clearing which is to be found only by those who have lost their way."  
_ **-** Tomas Tranströmer (freely translated)

 **OXXXO**

"Sooooo…" Stiles slides off the bed -the movement is calm and purposeful. It's distinctively dissimilar to Stiles' usual graceless flailing to action- and slips on to the floor. His hands hover about an inch from Scott's waistband as he glances up at Scott with a wide-eyed stare asking for permission.

Scott blinks in surprise "Is this really happening?"

Stiles tips his head to the side "It is, if you want it…"

This is going a lot faster and a lot easier than either of them had anticipated. But on the other hand that's what their lives are like these days, things escalate quickly. No longer do their lives consist out of simple worldly worries like homework, spending lacrosse practice arguing over who won the prize for best benchwarmer of the day and trying to woo girls who didn't even know they existed. Those simple days are gone; they shattered the night they went out into the woods looking for half a body.

Scott wets his lips, feels the wolf give him and encouraging push forward, urging him take all that he can get and decides to, for once, indulge the wolf "Yeah." He wants this. They both do. Because it's about bonding; an Alpha assuring himself that a lost, sick or injured Pack member is back and healing. Sex has healing properties and consummates a bond between individuals so it could be designed to strengthen the bond between Alpha and Pack and aid in the healing process.

Together they pull Scott's pants and boxers all the way down to the ankles and he quickly wriggles one foot free of the garment and spreads his legs wider to allow Stiles to settle between them.

Stiles' fingers are lazy nervous digits that keep abusing their privilege and he knows it. They are always running their own show and today is no exception as they're playing nimbly over Scott's thighs, running down the muscles like large wily spiders. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth because the dripping cock before him –leaking pretty pearls of precum- is a meal he can't quite figure how to delve into.

What is Scott expecting of him?

The way Stiles eyes his dick should be disconcerting. It's not critical or even wanting, it's more like he's gathering information. He's watching it in the same way he goes about figuring out the solution to a new practical problem and Scott is suddenly reminded of the fact that Stiles never reads the instructions… he just pushes a button and hope it all works out.

It's disconcerting to say the very least… but he takes pride in how the sight of his hardness makes Stiles' month fall open. How he's staring wide-eyed at it, long lashes flicking up and down as he traces the hard length before him seemingly impressed by its size and girth. Yeah, becoming Alpha had changed a few things.

The wolf claws in his chest, it's growing impatient and Scott has to try to restrain it. His attempt isn't working as well as he would've liked, the door is ajar and the wolf starts seeping out infecting his mind.

Eyes flashing red Scott slips a hand up and curves it around the back of Stiles' neck adding a touch of firm pressure, both inviting and ushering "Get to it." He commands with a little growl edging its way into his voice.

"Bossy. I like that." Stiles breathes with hot puff of air across the slit and Scott feels it like a shotgun blew off in his head. It sends him reeling back into the mattress with a surprised gasp that turns into a groan of pleasure before he has time to register what happened.

 **OXXXO**

 _The first time it happens Scott freaks out a little bit. He's lying there thrown back into the mussed up covers on his bed heart beating like crazy in not only post masturbational bliss because he has just rubbed one out while envisioning his best friend sucking him off. Stiles' supple lips stretched and wrapped around his cock. The wolf is stuttering around in his chest like and overly proud and satisfied dandy while his human side is desperately trying not to fall of the ground that's swaying and changing under his feet. These are new unchartered waters._

 _His scalp stings when he digs his fingers in and pulls._

 _Allison has only been dead for a week. One God damn week! She hasn't even been laid to rest yet and he's already having lurid gay fantasies about his best friend._

 _He hasn't seen anyone over the last week. Lydia has gone M.I.A, it seems her mom has hooked her up with an unlimited supply of Xanax or something like that. Stiles is resting at home and hasn't replied to any of the forty odd texts he's sent him. According to his mom –who's been over there a few times to give Stiles checkups and the Sheriff advice on how to care for his recovering son- the Sheriff is currently doing some serious redefining of Papa Bear. Derek is being his usual cheery, social self. Kira hasn't even occurred to him because he doesn't know how to approach her or what to say to her. Isaac called a few days ago to say he's staying with Mr. Argent, Scott hasn't heard from him since._

 _Since he became Alpha everything has been different. The wolf roams, rumbles and claws in his chest at all times. It infects his thoughts and senses with primal urges that would be considered wrong in any other setting than Pack. He feels keyed up with the need to watch over them. The wolf is constantly stirring, jumping up and down in there, clawing at his insides to have its needs met. He hears Derek's voice in the back of his head 'Pack means family'. And seriously Derek Hale's voice has no place impersonating his conscience. That little voice is supposed to sound like his mother or maybe Lydia… sometimes Stiles._

 _He finds Stiles in his bedroom the very next day –which really argues the case for Pack telepathy- sitting there on Scott's bed looking small and lost but better than last time Scott had seen him. The circles under his eyes appear smaller, his skin seems less transparent and gloomy and the bright shine has returned to his eyes but still something about his demeanour seems brittle enough to snap any second. Damn Nogitsune! Scott feels a renewed wave of rage directed at that thing._

 _Stiles shifts uneasily and stares down at the hands he has clasped in his lap twitching nervously. He seems muted, like his body has run out of its usual nervous spark of spastic energy. Stiles draws a heavy breathe "Dad drove me over. Your mom said it was okay. He needed to go to the next town over for some paperwork, shouldn't take more than a few hours. He didn't want me to be home alone… your mom said it was okay…" even Stiles' hurried voice, a desperate plea for understanding, shivers. It sounds broken and frail to Scott's ears. It sounds just as wrecked as he looks._

 _It takes Scott a moment or two to realize he hasn't responded to Stiles. He simply remains standing in the doorway like an ogling idiot slightly shocked by the sudden appearance of his oldest friend whom he hadn't expected to show up quite like this. He had thought Stiles would respond to his texts one of these days then maybe call and they would arrange something; a play date/reunion for grieving seventeen year old pack members who've been through hell involving video games, popcorn and a shoulder to cry on. Scott surely hadn't expected him to just be there like dropped out of the blue when he got home from Deaton's and the sight wipes his mind. He's not sure what to say and that silent treatment is definitely getting to Stiles because Scott watches Stiles close his shaking hands to weak fists and turn his head to window, refusing out of something akin to guilt to look Scott in the eyes. "If…if you want me to leave…I'll…I'll go…." His voice cracks at the end and Scott feels as if someone just dropkicked him in the heart because that's the last damn thing he wants._

 _"God dammit, Stiles!" He slams the door shut behind him with enough force to make it rattle on the hinges and crosses the room in just three steps before engulfing Stiles in a tight hug, ignoring how he flinches. "I've been texting you! Where the hell have you been for the past week?"_

 _The arm Stiles slinks around and squeezes him back with is warm but a little flimsy "…At home, in bed, asleep… mostly. Dad took my phone."_

 _Scott can't resist the impulse to take a deep breath and just breathe in the scent of Stiles. It's instinctive and makes him feel all warm on the inside. He tries to be discrete about it, shifting his head a little to be able to better bury his nose in Stiles' unwashed, messy hair –there's something Albert Einstein about the style, or lack of it-._

 _He smells hurt but recovering and there's an unmistakable whiff of honey scented body wash, down –from the bed sheets most likely, Scott knows the Sheriff owns a down comforter- and that lilac fabric softener he's so fond of. Underneath all that is the odour of salty blood without its usual metallic edge, it smells watered down and diluted –probably an effect of malnutrition-. Scott feels satisfied when he finds his own scent mixed in there as well –it sates the wolf to know his Pack carries his scent mark- unfortunately it is partially masked by something heavily artificial, a chemical like scent he's unfamiliar with, it's not Adderall. Diazepam maybe but he can't tell for sure._

 _Scott sinks down onto the edge of the mattress right next to Stiles. At first neither of them speak, Scott is still relishing in the scent of his friend and Stiles may be allowing it. Perhaps he's figured out what Scott is doing. Knowing Stiles he probably has. They're so close their knees rest against each other, the connection providing them both with some much needed comfort._

 _"I slept for three days straight" Stiles admits and Scott doesn't say it out loud but he thinks that's not surprising at all. "when I woke up I was still a bit out of it, I think dad may have slipped me something, I tried checking my phone and I think I tinkered with it for ten minutes wondering why it wouldn't work before I realised it was a baby monitor."_

 _Scott doesn't mean to laugh, he really doesn't, but he does. It's not a subtle or bubbling chuckle either but a full on rancorous laugh that explodes from his lungs as if it had been lying in wait down there, just passing the time waiting for this very moment to burst out. "Seriously," He wheezes between laughs "A baby monitor? An actual baby monitor?"_

 _Fuck melting the ice, let's nuke it._

 _Stiles grins from ear to ear "Yupp, found it on the nightstand, it just sits there innocently and oozes humiliation at me. Every time I see it I imagine a little baby blue leprechaun like creature with beady eyes living inside, operating it, while tittering snidely at me. Dad's being overprotective."_

 _"…can you really blame him?" Scott squints at Stiles and watches how his words melt away the grin, turns it into something that is soft and sympathetic. Stiles slowly shakes his head, gaze dropping to stare at one of the torn pages of Scott's chemistry book strewn around the room. –Three days after Allison's death Scott had thrown a fit induced by grief and Alpha instincts unmet (he hadn't been able to get ahold of Stiles and Lydia and despite his best efforts couldn't find out how they were doing.) It had all become too much for him so he ended up tearing up half his stuff. He's yet to clean up...-_

 _Stiles sighs. "…Dad's treating me like I'm some delicate piece of fragile glass about to break and shatter any second and— I don't want to be treated like that but I don't blame him for it."_

 _Scott can hear the edge of frustration in Stiles' otherwise morose tone. "He is your dad." He reasons. He's had his own fair share of experiences with protective parents trying to offer comfort over the last few days to know what it's like and what it means. "He wants to take care of you, especially now, after everything. All things considered he's bound to be a little overprotective—"_

 _"I don't mind the TLC, 'Whatever you need as long as you need it' is our agreement and it goes both ways. I just don't want him to hide the world from me. As if he thinks I won't be able handle reading the paper, watching a news segment or looking at pictures on my phone."_

 **OXXXO**

Somehow they had gone from that to this in less then 45 minutes. Maybe some kind of record… Call Guinness; Fastest escalating encounter…

Stiles licks a wet stripe along the underside of Scott's dick, following the pulsating vein from the base to the head then swallows the entire length down. Scott lets out a sound like his stomach just punched his lungs and Stiles can't begin to describe how much satisfaction he gets from that sound. His hands find purchase on Scott's toned thighs as he sucks him off, simply to prevent himself from toppling forward and injuring them both. He's pretty sure Scott wouldn't appreciate having a set of teeth clamping down around his little Scotty –if he didn't have a mouthful of cock Stiles would be making so many Bite jokes right now-.

He pulls off and licks Scott again, drags his tongue from the base to the top and over, like he's licking a salty ice cream deserving V.I.P. treatment. The whole five star sh'bam; the presidential suit –though Stiles would argue Scott's bedroom isn't exactly up to presidential standards –besides who would give the Presidential suit to an ice cream? Only chocolate chip cookie dough chocolate truffle Ganache swirl ice cream with little pieces of Brownie would even deserve it and this clearly isn't that- Why is he thinking about ice cream?

Damn it, Brain!

Scott tugs his hair firmly, accidentally harsh and Stiles feels the prickling sensation of a few strands fighting to stay in his scalp. "Focus." Scott growls and Stiles gets the familiar flip in heart, the tell tale sign that he gets off on rough treatment. Perhaps that is something to be concerned about because it makes him moan around Scott's cockhead and the heavy pool of hot liquid in his groin begins to simmer as he swallows down as much of the length as he can physically manage. He lets his head bob up and down, cranks his neck, changes the angle and just takes Scott as deep as he can 'til he can feel the head hit the back of his throat –he wonders if he'll speak funny for the next few hours because of those minute blunt punches to his larynx-

It's actually quite nice. The feel of Scott's strong fingers carding through his hair. Breathy words of encouragement telling him how good he is. "Suck me" Scott groans so Stiles pulls off with a hot, wet drag and places a deliberate kiss to tip "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Scott doesn't even register the words, he's too busy whispering filthy nothings and trying to rein in the wolf. All he knows is that he shouldn't be hearing Stiles voice right now, if he's talking that means his mouth isn't otherwise occupied and Scott want it back on him, want back inside that hot mouth. He presses down on Stiles' neck, nudging at the lips for him to open up.

Stiles is pretty sure he shouldn't find the possessive press of Scott's hands on his head so darn hot because it's commanding and Stiles usually doesn't take directions well. When he feels the blunt push of Scott's cockhead against his lips he almost wants to press his mouth shut just to teach him a lesson. But he know what that those fingers gripping around his neck mean, they mean 'open wide', and he obliges like a good boy because he loves Scott's domineering nature.

Scott wonders if Stiles is lovingly trying to suck his soul out through his dick. He could easily find himself addicted to the feel of Stiles' moist, supple lips wrapped snugly around his cock and the swirl of that slick tongue around the head. It drives Scott half way to mad when Stiles closes agonisingly fickle fingers around the shaft and starts pumping along with the rolls of his tongue around the head -as if it's a lolli- then pulls of with a swift snapping pop, perfect enough to rival a bottle opener.

Stiles glances up at him with glistering eyes before dropping back to work again, sucking Scott's dick all the way down to the base.

Scott grunts and the familiar drag in his balls tell him he's not going to last much longer. "Stiles" he tries to warm him –personally he wants nothing more than to cum hard down Stiles' throat –the wolf is howling for it- but this is after all their first time, he should let Stiles choose for himself if he want to take all that or not-. Stiles only response is to take him further down his throat and that visual is all that's needed for Scott to blow. He comes harder than he has in months, emptying his balls in Stiles' mouth.

Stiles swallows as much as he can. It's not easy gulping down the generous amount of semen Scott is releasing, the taste is rather tangy –though, compared to the nutrition supplements his dad has been cramming down his throat for the past few days –imagine being on a strict diet of something with the consistency of gruel tasting like tutti-frutti- he's not sure which is worse.

Scott is blissed out. Little stars sparking behind his eyelids. It's like a part of him really just did get sucked straight out of his dick and it left a calmness in its wake that he hasn't felt since before the sacrifice. He's dizzy and winded and picking together the pieces of himself lost to orgasmic ecstasy when Stiles pulls of his slack, sensitive member with a breathy sound and a sheen of spit and cum trailing behind "Dude, are my blow jobs really that amazing?"

"Yupp" Scott smacks his tongue to rid himself of the dry raw feeling in his mouth "you could like use them as your weapon for planetary conquest."

"Dad will be so proud" Stiles mocks sardonically and wipes his lips with the sleeve of his grey hoodie. "'This is my son Stiles, supreme ruler of the universe. How did he conquer it, you ask? He sucked cock all the way to the top'."

Scott snorts and gets up to scavenger the piles strewn around his room for a clean pair of underwear while Stiles crawls back on the bed and disposes himself in the mussed up sheets. "Stiles.., if this is about healing shouldn't I have been the one to do you?" He finds a pair that looks okay and makes the mistake of sniffing them.

"Nah, I'm good" Stiles weakly bats the offer away "Don't forget, I just swallowed a load of Alpha spunk. I feel better already." He yawns, takes possession of one of Scott's pillows, scrunches it up in his face and goes to sleep.

When the Sheriff returns a few hours later to retrieve his son Stiles is fast asleep, curled up under a nest of covers and still hugging the pillow, and Scott's cleaned away the evidence of anything and everything else.

No one needs to know for now… especially not an overprotective father with a license to carry concealed.

 **THE END**


End file.
